Snappage
by Max the bish deliverer
Summary: Because sometimes, you just do it.


**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own 'em.

**Snappage**

There were some days when the Japanese culture felt like excommunicating her.

Those were the days when chopsticks were evil, onigiri were disgusting, and the way of Bushido was enough to make her gag.

Those were especially the days that stabbing the tofu (what was Shin_ thinking _when he made dinner) with one chopstick was quite enough to get the job done. That is, until the tofu fell off and then it was in all aspects of the tofu's wellbeing to stay on the damned stick.

She ignored the looks of sheer shock and amusement littering the dinner table as she grinned in satisfaction and tossed the tofu into the bowl that was not her bowl.

It happened to belong to Touma, who, judging by the half-smile on his face, knew precisely what was wrong with her and would probably just ignore it as he too stabbed the tofu and promptly devoured it.

Nasuti suddenly felt bad for the tofu. She however, did not feel bad for the chicken that if the boys knew any better, they'd leave well enough alone. So she could stab at it, stabbity, stabbity.

Yes, there were definitely days when she would flat out ignore the Japanese in her. Unfortunately, those were also the days that the Japanese surrounding her would simply laugh and play along as she'd eventually forget about her protesting half of her heritage.

"Nasuti, is something wrong?" Ryo dared to ask as he tried to hide in his hot-pot bowl and half behind Shuu. If she was on _that_ time, then her ire was something that the trooper of Rekka did _not_ want aimed at him.

"Nothing."

The five males surrounding the table had lived with her long enough to know that "nothing" always meant something and so they left the table, one by one. So many things to do and never enough hours in the day, you know how it goes, right?

Touma patted Seiji's shoulder as the blond continued to sit there, patiently waiting for Nasuti to stop stabbing at the protein and realize that the hot pot was now cold and would thus taste digusting.

It never took long.

"Nasuti," he announced, a smile on his face as she crinkled her nose and promptly spat out the now cold chicken.

"Ah, Seiji! Why aren't you with the others?" She pouted as she noticed that dinner was now cold and instead stood, leaving the dishes to someone else. The maid was off today, they'd have to deal.

"Wrestling. I declined. Why aren't you with the others?" He turned the question back on her, standing when she stood and meeting her at the head of the table.

Her breath caught as _damned_ that snot, he was pulling his "you're mine" act again.

It worked every time too. She felt it every time she stepped into cold weather, and it was one of the many reasons that she hated rain. The precipitation only served to remind her of the onslaught of ice and water that soaked her and threatened to kill her too many times over.

"I-I haven't been feeling myself here lately." She capitulated. He'd get it out of her regardless.

"Noted." He walked closer, noticing that for every step he took, she reciprocated. Backwards. "A wall is back there."

She grinned. "What gave it away?"

"You said 'nothing'. "

"You men are getting sensitive. I must be cautious." She looked to her left and then quickly to her right as dammit, no way out as he penned her against the wall. Not that she minded. Seiji was tall and handsomely beautiful, if that made any sense. She kept her grin plastered on her face, her cheeks hurt in the effort, and pulled his body against hers.

Seiji also smelled wonderful. All five of them did in a way, but she had her favorites among the cologne choices.

Seiji didn't return her grin. He seldom ever did, but when he did, it was an effort to render his opponent completely useless.

Still useful, she noted as he pressed her against the wall, the painted surface cool on her back.

"You're being silly."

"I'm sexually frustrated in a house full of attractive males. Do you blame me?" She bluntly admitted.

The look of momentary shock on Seiji's face was quite enough compensation. She'd savor that look for eternity. The look then dissolved into a smirk that would serve to irritate her for as long. "Not at all," he quipped as he leaned his face a little closer.

Just two more inches and she could do something about that frustration, _come to my parlor_, dammit, two more inches down and - did this man have any idea what his smirk did to her?

_Whoa_. She smacked her head against the wall when he leaned his head along side of her.

Warm lips feathered the skin behind her ear, sending electric currents down her spine. "I'd be happy to fix that for you."

**End**


End file.
